Refills are free

I have bled out

every last injustice you left me the deed to,

I have sobbed out

every last cruel word

you imprinted on my memory,

and I have shed every last scab you gifted me.

My skin is shiny and new,

pink with scar tissue,

thick from you.

By the time I am done,

I will have opened myself up and poured you out,

and I will wait out these hollow times

until I have filled myself up again,

back to the brim,

until I overflow,

until all these things are joys instead of sorrow.

(Still) Awake

Part II

(Still)

Awake.

as the sun seeps in.

Peeking. Prying.

Tendrils that seem weak,

a substance not completely there

grow stronger, thicker.

It took seemingly moments

for the darkest blue-black stain

to fade, melt down

to a translucent blue.

Routine transition

has made me uneasy.

Have I created a head start for the day,

Or am I very, very behind?

Awake

I’ve been up all night again

so my mind has yet to sleep

as the sun is peeking in;

Pale, weak tendrils growing thicker,

stronger by the minute, hour

seeping in like ink,

a substance not completely there.

The morning hours seem utopian

in their transition --

In what seemed like moments the

blackest dark melted

liquefied and lightened,

and lost all its opacity.

Shedding its coat, the sky

remaining undecided

on its final hue

clocks in another completed routine.

Within the infinite chase

of sun and moon

we find shadows of humanity;

Light follows dark

ever and always

in equal measure.